Phelps, a screeching dummy
Phelps, once wore duds of mommy
Phelps, he feels a need for bum
Phelps

He likes his bum stirred
In a plunger pumping way
But he feels guilty, so he screams
"God hates fags!" when he prays
His boyfriend lays it on
The knots bite when he's scourged
In that light, he's quite Silas-like
He feels his sins are purged

Phelps is a sick man, psychotic clown
And his family's all inbred in the town
Where he lives, wish they'd there stick around
He's diseased. Please: Phelps-free.

He's a blight and deranged, his obsession with gays
Is Freudian transference, self-loathing displays
In Phelps it seems that Satan and Saddam have merged
A Hitler outcome as comeuppance surely should be urged

Phelps is a sick man, a blight and clown
And each night onto his knees he's going down
To make his mouth moist, man-sized, and round
He's diseased. Please: Phelps-free

He likes his bum stirred
In a plungerpumping way
He's levered from behind
Each evening as he prays.
His boyfriend lays it on
While with daughters he's merged
Though he indicts it as not right
Abortions should be urged

Phelps, a mad dog, belongs in a pound
And his followers consist of inbred clowns
Sullies soldiers, he should be shot down
He's diseased. Please: Phelps-free
Phelps-free, Phelps-free, Phelps-free
P-U!